


in a heartbeat

by sundazed



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Drabble Collection, Fluff, I’ll add ships and tags as I go, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-04-23 11:07:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19149790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sundazed/pseuds/sundazed
Summary: a dump for drabbles1 - nomin; zombie apocalypse au2 - johnten; canon au3 - markhyuck; with kids4 - markhyuck/platonic nohyuck; unrequited love5 - noren; zombie apocalypse au6 - jaesung; night swim





	1. darling, you make me feel alive

Jeno found him leaning on one of the counters, reaching for a box of nicotine, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

“If you’re planning to die,” Jeno stepped closer, taking the cigarettes, “I’ll gladly lead you to the exit and shove you into the zombie den next door.”

“Hey,” he groaned, frustrated. “Those are mine.”

“Jaemin, what are you doing? These aren’t batteries.”

“Duh,” Jaemin rolled his eyes before turning around and grabbing another box from behind the counter. “The world is doomed. Might as well try now before the living dead can snack on my lungs.”

Jeno resisted the urge to sigh aloud, watching wordlessly as Jaemin fluidly jumped over the counter. He watched as the younger boy carelessly shuffled through the cabinets, pink hair bobbing up and down as if he were looking for cookies in his pantry, and not for a lighter in the middle of a deserted convenience store.

It had been a month and twelve days, Jeno kept count, since the outbreak fully decapitated Korea.

He, along with his roommates from university, have somehow managed to survive up to now. And guilt sits comfortably in the pit of his stomach as thoughts, of how he could not do anything to save his younger sister, of how things would have been had he done things differently, of how he could have tried harder to help the others, gnaw endlessly at his mind.

Survivor’s guilt, Hyuck called it, has made itself at home in the corners of his mind and Jeno hasn’t found it in himself to unlearn how to be its welcoming host.

“Bingo.” Jaemin whistled low, effectively pulling Jeno out of his thoughts. His nonchalance during times of crisis always puzzled Jeno, no matter how long they’ve been together. Jaemin waved the lighter triumphantly at Jeno, as if he had already forgotten that only an hour has passed since they had encountered and slayed a pair of overweight zombies. “Now, the moment of truth.”

A stick clumsily rested in between his index and middle finger, Jaemin cocked his eyebrow at Jeno. “You’re not going to try?”

Jeno absolutely hated it whenever Jaemin did this.

Jaemin was looking at Jeno with expectant eyes, and maybe it’s just a trick of the light from the flashlight Jeno put down on the shelf, but Jeno swears he could see them twinkle like stars in the dark.

Jeno absolutely hated it whenever Jaemin did this because Jaemin _knows_ Jeno could never find it in himself to say no. Although, it shouldn’t really come as a surprise, because even before everything went to shit, he had already helplessly, indisputably fallen for Na Jaemin.

“I hate you,” Jeno pouted, palms already open to accept the cigarette Jaemin is tapping out of the box.

“You love me,” Jaemin teased. “Ready?” he asked, putting the stick between his lips.

God, Jeno _hates_ how appealing it made Jaemin look. Jeno thought it was rather twisted how something deadly could make Jaemin look so good.

“Guys, you’re going to want to see this.” Hyuck shouted from the floor above them, stopping Jaemin who was midway from lighting the cig in his mouth.

Relieved, Jeno quickly discarded the stick and pulled Jaemin along, ignoring his boyfriend’s protests.

Once they have reached the top of the staircase, Hyuck was smiling at them. “You’re going to shit your pants.”

In this apocalyptic chaos, who, in their right mind, would ever shake in excitement?

But all of Jeno’s doubts of Hyuck’s sanity instantly fell away when the door finally opened.

Jeno stared out across Gyeonggi Province, instantly mulling over how incredibly unfair it is that it all looked so breathtaking, so peaceful. How cruel the stars were for shining so magnificently and unbothered across the dark canvas above, how it effortlessly granted Jeno a sense of hope that all of this was fleeting and things will be okay.

He thought about Renjun, resting in his makeshift grave in Seoul, and how he would have loved to see all of this, to see all the constellations so clearly and name them all expertly, to feel the spark of hope Jeno currently nestled in his heart despite the destruction that surrounded them.

Jaemin held his hand, and it is only then that Jeno realized that warm tears were streaking his cheeks. Hyuck was near and far away, leaning on the ledge with his eyes straight ahead, and Jeno knows exactly what— _whom_ —he was thinking about.

“Hey, hey,” Jaemin whispered, cupping Jeno’s cheek in his hand and wiping the tears that are now fully drenching his cheek. “I’m here, I’m here.”

Jeno couldn’t help but smile.

Because this— _this_ , right here—was what kept Jeno going, the last string of hope Jeno desperately latched onto. Jaemin stared at him with worried, gentle eyes but there was something about his touch that made Jeno feel so sure, so ready to take on whatever was out there.

“I know,” Jeno croaked out. “Thank you for being such a badass boyfriend.”

Jaemin chuckled, almost disbelieving of the words he just heard. He quickly sneaked a glance at Hyuck and took a breath. “I really want to kiss you right now,” he confessed.

“You’ve stolen kisses from me a thousand times before, what’s holding you back now?” Jeno blinked back, head cocked to the side. Jaemin bit his lip then—Jeno knows how weak this makes Jaemin.

  
Their lips met,

 

slow and careful,

 

hands wandering, cautious,

 

breaths measured and shaky,

 

and Jeno felt the spark of hope burning, growing steadily in his chest.

 

  
It had been a month and twelve days since the outbreak, and it’s still the little things,

 

like finding food that hasn’t gone bad,

  
like Hyuck’s soft singing at night that helps Jeno sleep a little better,

  
like the way Jaemin chases his lips every time,

  
that made Jeno the happiest.

 

 

“Guys,” Hyuck coughed. “Sorry to be a dick, but look.”

They pulled away then, smiles not faltering.

It was Jaemin who looked away first, and in Jeno’s periphery, he sees it, too.

“Everland?”

And it’s a question that need not be answered.

When Jeno had finally given in, looking away from Jaemin who shines just as bright, the view knocked the wind out of his lungs.

  
“They’re alive,” Hyuck whispered. “ _He’s_ alive.”

  
And that’s when he was sure—the spark of hope in Jeno’s chest had transformed into a wildfire.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments highly appreciated!! this is my debut (LOL) in the nomin tag so please be kind! hehe


	2. nightcap

“Since when were you a scotch person?”

The voice does not startle Johnny, only makes him smile into rim of his glass. The ice cubes rattle as he sets it back down, then he turns to face the owner of the voice who has already conquered the seat next to him.

“Since when were you a Crocs person?” Johnny quips, eyeing Ten’s current getup—gold thin-rimmed glasses, silk pajamas and the most hideous pair of green Crocs he’s ever seen. It should be felonious how adorable he looks.

“They’re not mine.” Ten raises an eyebrow, politely dismissing the bartender with a nod. “I was summoned abruptly.”

“Really?” Johnny turns to his side till their knees are touching. He smiles. “By whom?”

Ten rolls his eyes, then waves his hand, chuckling. “Oh, just this charming idiot.”

There’s no genuine irritation in his voice, only a playfulness Johnny has missed hearing (it doesn’t count when it’s only over the phone) in the months they’d been apart. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up. I just… missed you.”

Warmth floods Johnny’s nerves as Ten cups his cheeks with both hands. “I missed you too, goofball.”

It’s a little past midnight now, and generic jazz music plays through the speakers as the pianist has long retired for the night. Ten drums his fingers on the table to the music, chin resting on his hand and a small smile on his lips.

Johnny holds his gaze, head tilted to the side. “We should’ve been roommates.”

“Patience, babe.” Ten places a hand on his knee, picking at the extra fabric around the hole of Johnny’s ripped jeans. “We have a free day tomorrow, at least. We’ll seize the day!” Ten announces, the last few remaining patrons of the hotel lounge instantly snapping their heads towards their direction.

Johnny bows his head in apology, but Ten doesn’t seem fazed at all. “I already have the day planned out,” Ten admits, facing forward and drumming his fingers on the bar again.

Johnny scoffs, teasing. “You said that the last time and we ended up staying in.”

“Will you ever let go of that?” Ten looks at him again, brow raised. It’s unbelievable how much Johnny misses him still even if he’s literally within an arm’s reach. So Johnny reaches — thumb gentling smoothing out the creases on his forehead. Ten chuckles, taking Johnny’s hand in his. Johnny shifts so that their shoulders are touching, and that their backs are completely concealing whatever innocent hand-holding is happening. It’s late, and the lights are dim, but you can never be sure who’s watching.

When Johnny’s sure his back can fend off any unwanted attention (he should’ve asked to meet on the roof instead), he takes the chance to lace their fingers together, his glass of scotch completely abandoned. He disregards Ten’s question (he’s sure it was rhetorical, anyway) and throws the question he’s been itching to ask, “How are you?”

“Silly,” Ten squeezes his hand. “We talk everyday.”

“I know but,” Johnny stalls, smacking his lips. He wants to tell him it’s different when they talk through KakaoTalk, or phone calls. It’s different when they’re always rushing to say goodbye even though they’ve just said hello because there’s another schedule they need to get to. He wants to tell him that even though he’s happy about the world tour and how the group’s receiving recognition, he sometimes wants to sulk about how short the time they have together now. 

He wants to tell him he misses him, tell him how he never gets tired of hearing his little anecdotes from their promotions in China. He’s interested in their new pet cat, and how Ten’s been able to sleep away from his bed. But, curious though he was, Johnny thinks the place isn’t private enough for things like those (he really should’ve asked for rooftop access).

So instead, he settles for, “Tell me anything. What’s on your mind?”

Ten yawns then, making no attempt at covering his widely open mouth. Johnny bumps his shoulder against Ten’s, laughs at how adorable his boyfriend is.

“Okay. You can tell me tomorrow.”

Ten feigns innocence, pretends he’s excited to recite the same stories to Johnny again, but Johnny decides it can wait. Ten’s right. They have a full day ahead of them, anyway.

(And maybe, Johnny hopes, a lifetime in front of them.)

“Want to head up to our room?” Johnny tugs at Ten’s hand, snatching the attention of the younger whose sleepy eyes are starting to get the best of him. “I’m sure Yuta’s still hanging around at Winwin’s room, anyway.”

Ten nods wordlessly and slips off the high chair, feet landing with a light thud on the floor. Johnny bids the bartender goodnight, his abandoned glass of scotch already watered down by ice.

Ten practically puts his weight on Johnny all the way to the elevator, and Johnny does not mind one bit.

“Ten?” Johnny cups his cheek when the door dings open.

“Mhm?”

“I missed you.”

To which Ten smiles, opens one of his eyes, and mumbles back, “Missed you too, dumbo.”

They slip into the elevator right before it could close, and Johnny wastes no time planting a peck on his lips when they’re finally alone.

Another kiss atop Ten’s head and Johnny knows — it’s the in-betweens, although always short, that are the best.  

 


	3. sweet behavior, i’m in danger

__Donghyuck misses Mark so badly.

But Donghyuck would never admit that aloud because that would be ridiculous, considering Mark’s only a few steps ahead of him now. He watches as the older tries to catch Lele and Jisung, who are now both running as the playground comes in full view.

“Hyuck, please,” Mark dangerously looks back at him as he sprints, and Donghyuck has to lunge forward to stop him from bumping into a small, old woman. “Oh, sorry.”

They both bow their head in apology before jogging to where the kids are, thankful that they know enough not to cross the road without supervision. Jisung takes Mark’s hand instinctively, and Donghyuck extends his for Lele to hold onto, to which the four-year-old only sticks his tongue out and grabs onto Mark’s free hand.

Donghyuck sighs, shaking his head and intentionally trailing behind the trio when the stop light finally blinks red. Both Jisung and Lele are excitedly talking to Mark at the same time, and Donghyuck hears Mark laughing at the silly thing that Lele had done in school the other day.

No, Donghyuck isn’t _jealous_. Especially not of a pair of four-year-olds. That would be ridiculous. He knows Mark is his, and he is Mark’s.

(Even if he wishes he were the one holding Mark’s hand at the moment.)

Donghyuck just misses the Saturdays when it used to be just _them_. The two of them. Mark and Donghyuck — at an amusement park, at the library, at the mall, at the supermarket, at the movies, at the park. He misses having Mark to himself, especially now that they’re well into the last few busy weeks of the semester and they barely have time to see each other in school, much less outside of it.

So when Mark agreed to babysit the twins on Saturdays for his next-door neighbor who has to work extra shifts at the hospital she works at, Donghyuck can’t deny that he’d been a teeny tiny bit upset. He doesn’t tell Mark this, though, especially since the reason feels so petty.

So he sucks it up.

The twins run to the swings immediately, both giggly and giddy, asking Mark to push the both of them.

“Lele, Hyuck hyung can push yours, and I’ll push Jisung, okay?”

“But—“ Lele’s lower lip juts out at the suggestion, his small knuckles turning white from gripping the chains. “But I want you to push me.”

Mark chuckles and moves from Jisung’s swing to Lele’s, all while gesturing for Donghyuck to go to the other side. Jisung giggles excitedly, returning the high five that Donghyuck offers him. Donghyuck, for the life of him, can’t figure out why Lele’s so aloof to him when Jisung has always been excited that Donghyuck tags along with them.

He tucks away the thought just as Mark starts counting down. “One, two….”

At three, Lele and Jisung both shriek in laughter as they push them, feet excitedly kicking in the air.

“Again, again!” Jisung shouts, and Donghyuck lets the laughter bubbling in his chest to finally slip out of his mouth. When they’ve settled into a rhythm, Donghyuck looks at Mark who’s still enthusiastically catching and pushing Lele, and he can’t help but feel a little breathless.

This is exactly how he’d fallen for him — watching Mark laughing, uninhibited, with his friends, and exuding an aura bright enough to match his own firecracker personality, Donghyuck couldn’t stop himself from gravitating towards him.

When Mark finally looks up to match his gaze, Donghyuck feels heat creep up on his neck, and immediately turns away, feeling as if he’d been caught red-handed. Even after two years together, Donghyuck still feels his stomach flip when Mark catches him staring. It’s ridiculous.

“I want ice cream!”

Jisung announces after a few minutes, to which Lele animatedly agrees. They start sprinting to the stalls as soon as they land on their feet, completely ignoring Mark’s desperate call to wait for them.

For once, Donghyuck is thankful for the twins’ hyperactive nature because he can have Mark all to himself. For two minutes, at least.

“What flavor do you want?” Mark effortlessly interlocks their fingers together, and Donghyuck immediately remembers when Lele had tried to do the same the other week and Mark quickly changing his hand’s position, saying, _No, Lele, that hand hold is reserved for Hyuck hyung._

Donghyuck smiles at him, feeling stupid for ever considering to let the tiny green monster in. “Hmm, mango?”

“Okay!” Mark cheers, bring their zipper of hands up together. “I like mango.”

“What do you—“

Donghyuck gets cut off by Jisung who runs up to them frantically asking for money. Mark pulls Donghyuck along, following a skipping Jisung to the ice cream stall.

They all get waffle cones — Jisung gets mint chocolate chip, Lele picks vanilla, and Mark asks for salted caramel.

Settling on a bench under a tree, they lick at their respective ice creams as they watch a basketball game on the other side of the street. Mark occasionally tried to wipe Jisung’s hand to rid it of the sticky melted ice cream, but he gives up after a while when he realizes he’s getting nowhere.

The sight fills Donghyuck with a certain fuzzy feeling he’d been trying to ignore for weeks, thinking it’s jealousy that might come up if he lets it, but no. This is a different feeling altogether.

“Is it good?” Mark turns to him suddenly, and Donghyuck jumps a little.

“Yeah, yeah, try it,” Donghyuck mindlessly offers the cone to him, taking a few napkins from Mark’s lap to wipe his mouth.

But before Donghyuck can even reach up to his lips, Mark’s lips are on his own and it takes Donghyuck a few beats to realize what he’s doing. It’s uncharacteristic of Mark to be so uncaring of who might see — PDA has always been Donghyuck’s forte. But he kisses him back, instead of questioning his sudden bravery. As soon as the salted caramel hits his taste buds, Donghyuck hears the simultaneous _ewww!!_ coming from the twins, which makes him giggle into the kiss.

Afraid of permanently scarring the toddlers, Donghyuck pulls away first before the kiss could go any deeper.

“Mhm, that _does_ taste good,” Mark’s biting his lip, and Donghyuck resists the urge to taste him again.

“See, Jisung!” Lele whisper-shouts, drawing Donghyuck and Mark’s attention. “I told you he’s the one who keeps making Markie hyung’s lips bleed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my first markhyuck! ;;


	4. bitter/sweet

Hyuck can’t stay here a minute longer.

But running out the door isn’t an option when he has no place else to go. When home is supposed to be _here_ , and it’s the last place he wants to be.

So he slips through the window, up the fire escape, and tries not to dwell on the image of Minhyung’s lips on Jaemin’s neck.

Fortunately, unlike the last time he’d tried to find solace here, the fire escape is empty. A shiver runs up his spine as a cold breeze passes, but he braves it, tucking his hands into the pockets of his— _Minhyung’s_ , actually—hoodie.

From here, the blaring sounds of the festivities are muffled and Seoul’s city lights become his companion. The buzz from his first two bottles already starting to wear out, he regrets not grabbing a beer on his way out. He needs to cling onto the bitter liquid again to help him numb down the pain he feels in his chest.

Then, as if the universe had heard his heart’s desires, someone’s muttering expletives from bumping their head on the sill as they’re sliding out of the window with two bottles of beer in hand.

“Hyuck?”

“Up here.”

Jeno trudges up the narrow stairs, one hand on the railing, the other barely holding the necks of the bottles. By the looks of it, one wrong step and he could fall on his face, yet he seems sober enough to hold a sensible conversation. “Here.”

Hyuck takes a swig as soon as he gets ahold of the beer and adjusts his legs so Jeno could sit on the step below him. “Thanks, you’re the second-best.”

Jeno gives him a deserving smack on his knees. “Why’d you disappear?”

Hyuck shrugs, an attempt to be nonchalant and not to look as shitty as he feels, and says simply, “It was getting stuffy.”

Jeno doesn’t miss a beat. “Bullshit.”

“What?” Hyuck asks even though he clearly knows _what_.

Jeno lazily brings the bottle to his lips again, his free hand wildly gesturing at the party below. “You are out here sulking because Jaemin just arrived and his very existence makes you want to vomit your guts out.”

Hyuck hugs his knees, avoiding Jeno’s burning stare. He doesn’t tell Jeno he’s right, even though they both know that’s the complete truth. He doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

When he doesn’t answer, Jeno punches his arm lightly. “Come on. I’m your best friend.”

“Exactly.” Hyuck swings his head towards him. “We’re best friends. So I don’t know why you could ever, ever like him. Stupid face.”

“Hey,” Jeno warns, pushing him slightly. “You know Jaemin’s a good person. He’s sweet, smart, and charming. Remember, he helped out a lot with your fundraiser.”

Jeno doesn’t give Hyuck the chance to retort. “You only hate him because Minhyung likes _him_. And not you.”

Hyuck rolls his eyes. Of course, he’s defending him. Fucking idiot.

(They’re both idiots.)

And _of course_ , Hyuck remembers him helping out. That was exactly when his life went into shambles and he’d lost any little chance he could have had with Minhyung. Na Jaemin and his fucking amazing personality and blinding smile and kind, pure heart.

Hyuck takes another sip before answering, “That’s exactly what I don’t understand. You know Jaemin likes Minhyung, too. And you’ve liked him for a while now, right? Since freshman year? Then why aren’t you the least bit frustrated about the situation?”

“Screw you.”

Hyuck grimaces. “I think I’ll pass.”

Jeno’s expression shifts quickly to dejection, a look that never really fit with his perennially glowing disposition. “Who says I’m not frustrated, though?”

Hyuck apologizes instantly, knowing that had it not been for Jeno, he would’ve been pitifully nursing his broken heart alone.

“Maybe that’s why we’re best friends.” Jeno smirks suddenly, a hint of bitterness in his voice. “We’re both shit at love. And finding the perfect timing.”

The truth sucks. But it _does_ suck less when you hear it from someone you trust. Hyuck groans nonetheless, “Can’t you just wake me up when we get to the good parts?”

“Hey, I already told you—” Jeno downs the last of his beer and a loud burp escapes his mouth. Like the independent, responsible young adults they are, they laugh at that. Hyuck empties his own bottle too, and not a second later, Jeno’s pulling out an already opened bag of Haribo from under his sweater.

Jeno gestures for him to open his palm, and Hyuck obeys wordlessly. They both pop three in at the same time, and Jeno doesn’t wait to swallow before saying,

“Without the bitter, the sweet isn’t as sweet.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh, donghyuck
> 
> (yes that’s a mayday parade song title hehe)
> 
> leave reqs on cc: renjunsmom :)


	5. call me a safe bet, i’m betting i’m not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> related to drabble #1 — carry on if you don’t want to read /angst/ please.

“I don’t want anyone else to do it but you.”

Jeno inhales, but the air that fills his lungs is thick—it weighs him down like tar and he finds it harder to breathe. His heart feels like it’s being crammed into his spine; an invisible force pressing on it, slowly, steadily, _heavily_.

“No, no, no. It doesn’t happen that quickly, right? Maybe it isn’t deep enough to turn you—maybe we could—maybe a miracle could—“

Jeno shuts his eyes, wills the tears to obliviate. But gravity is an unassailable enemy, and when he opens them again, the tears fall down anyway.

Everywhere, everything hurts—physically, mentally, emotionally.

Yet Renjun remains calm, tone unchanged, lips curled up into a smile.

“Jeno, you have to do it now.” His voice is soft, pouring honey into Jeno’s ears. As if he didn’t just ask Jeno to do the unthinkable. As if he didn’t just ask Jeno to pull the trigger.

“No, no, no, no,” Jeno repeats the word, again and again and _again_. “No, Renjun, this isn’t happening, please, no, no, no, this isn’t—“

“Jeno,“ comes Jaemin’s shaky voice. His hand rests on the small of Jeno’s back, offering comfort, like he always does. But it does nothing to alleviate the tightness he feels in his gut, the barbed wires gnashing at his chest, and the fear coursing freely in his nerves.

“Jeno, you are my best friend.” Renjun says, unyielding. Jeno wipes at his tears that just won’t fucking stop from falling and tries, with all the remaining power in his body, to memorize Renjun’s face. “Let this be my final wish. Please.”

“Fuck, don’t say that!” Jeno pleads, falling down to his knees. “Fuck that zombie. Fuck whoever started this outbreak—“ Jaemin squeezes his shoulders, and Jeno violently shakes it away, “—fuck everything!”

His mind is foggy, and nothing else matters. All he knows is that he is not ready—he will never be ready—to lose Renjun.

“It just can’t be—maybe, maybe we could find someone—maybe Mark could help—“ Jeno bargains, pounding his fists on the floor, because there _has_ to be a way out.

“Jeno, look at me,” Renjun commands, firmer than before. Jeno shakes his head no, because he can’t. He physically can’t. The rush of emotions barging into his head exhausts him.

  
(An hour ago, they slipped into a seemingly abandoned school, right where the road ends. They planned on spending the night, because it would be safer, Jeno had said, to which they all agreed.

But things are never the way they seem, at least in this wasteland, and it took Jeno a while to process what was happening. And when the cogs in his mind finally clicked, it was far too late.

But now, the memory feels vague, distant. Like it didn’t happen only minutes before. Because the aftermath is right in front of him, asking Jeno to end him with the same eyes Jeno had known all his life.)

  
“Jen, please.” Jeno isn’t sure if it’s still just him crying, but the sound of sobbing is definitely louder now. He wills himself to look up (Jaemin helps), and the answer slaps him in the face.

  
Renjun is weeping, and the sight is like poison to Jeno: incapacitating him, turning the air in his lungs into sludge.

He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, he can’t—

Renjun takes a breath deep enough for the both of them. “Jaemin,” he calls out, fragile.

Jeno watches as the younger turns his head. It’s only now that he realizes that Jaemin’s also been crying. Jaemin sniffs, but he doesn’t say anything and waits. Jeno doesn’t realize how painful this must be for Jaemin, too.

“You have to make sure you get to Everland before the 23rd, okay? Mark and the rest—“ Renjun whimpers, gripping his wrist, the bite fresh and taunting.

“—will be waiting for you,” Renjun finishes, struggling.

No, no, no, _no_. “Renjun—“

“Jeno, I love you. You a-are my best friend—“ Renjun chokes on his own saliva, and he snaps his eyes shut. Jeno desperately wants to hug him, reach out to him, make him feel less alone, but his legs have given out, helpless and useless underneath him.

 

“Close your eyes, p-please.” Renjun says hurriedly.

 

And before Jeno could register what was happening, Jaemin’s hand is blocking his sight, and the sound of gunshot cuts through the air.

  
He feels Jaemin’s hand leave his face, but Jeno doesn’t dare open his eyes.

  
He isn’t—will never be—ready to see a world where Renjun wasn’t in it.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that... had a lot of emotions in it.


	6. water you doing?

Jisung hears him before he sees him.

“Is that you, Jaemin hyung?”

Jaemin has never been stealthy — he always walks in the room with the loudest smile and an invitation for a hug.

“The one and only.” He sits beside Jisung on the chaise lounge, slinging an arm around the younger’s shoulder. “What are you doing out here?”

“Just thinking.”

Jaemin squeezes. “Worried about the dance tomorrow?”

Jisung’s a dancer. He really shouldn’t be worried. But he’s never been to prom. Never slow danced. Never danced to a love song with another person, arms tangled and feet moving in time. Jisung has talked about this, so Jaemin knows.

“Maybe.”

Jaemin stands up. “Then I’ll teach you. Come on.”

“Here?” Jisung looks around the empty pool area. It’s nearing 1am and the others have long retired to their rooms, excited for the long-awaited conclusion of their weekend-long trip.

“Yes, here.” Jaemin snatches his hands, forcing him to stand. “Step on my toes.”

Jisung looks down at Jaemin’s slippers. “I’m not stepping on your toes, no. I’m heavy. I don’t want to.”

Jaemin considers this for a second, eyes piercing through Jisung. He hates it when Jaemin does that. Jaemin is _attractive_ , and Jisung always feels self-conscious under his stare, no matter how fond it looks. “I have an idea.”

Jaemin lets go of his hands, takes off his shirt and jumps right into the pool.

“What?!”

“Take off that hideous shirt and dive in!”

“Are you crazy?!” Jisung looks down at his neon yellow shirt. “Hyung, you’re crazy. The water’s freezing!”

“All the more reason you should come in soon then.” Jaemin splashes him. “Come on, don’t be a wimp, Jisungie!”

Jisung could just walk away right now. But it’s Jaemin. And he’s _too soft_ for Jaemin (though he’d never admit it) to turn down his ridiculous requests. So he takes off his shirt, dips his toe into the water and cannonballs in.

When he resurfaces, Jaemin is right in front of him, grinning. “I knew you wouldn’t leave me hanging.”

“It’s cold,” is all Jisung could say.

Jaemin takes both Jisung’s hands again, places them on his waist, and Jaemin wraps his hands around Jisung’s neck. “Step on my feet.”

Jisung does. And Jaemin leads.

Jaemin counts — 1, 2, 3, 4 — and Jisung feels the heat of his breath on his skin. Jisung dominates him easily, but Jaemin’s looking up at him as they go, whispering the numbers like a prayer.

“See,” Jaemin exclaims after they’ve practically circled all around the small pool. “The waltz is easy!”

Jisung laughs, steps off the older’s feet, but doesn’t take his hands off his waist. Jaemin smiles at him expectantly, and Jisung wishes they could stay like this forever.

“It’s easy when it’s with you, hyung.”

 

 


End file.
